“Yes,” answered Philip, with a smile.
“They evidently appreciate true genius. It reminds me of the ovation they gave me at Cincinnati last winter.”
“Does it?” asked Philip, still smiling.
“Yes. I was a great favorite in that intellectual city. By the way, I noticed that they seemed well pleased with your playing also.”
This he said carelessly, as if Philip’s applause was not to be compared to his.
“Yes, they treat me very kindly,” answered Philip.
“You are fortunate in having me to introduce you to the public,” said the professor emphatically. “The name of Riccabocca is so well known, that it is of great advantage to you.”
The professor deluded himself with the idea that he was a great elocutionist, and that the public rated him as highly as he did himself. When anything occurred that did not seem to favor this view, he closed his eyes to it, preferring to believe that he was a popular favorite.
“I hope I shall never be so deceived about myself,” thought Philip.
When the entertainment was over, Mr. Caswell, president of the club, came up to Philip and said cordially: